Sample Pages 7-Mar Chroí Ceann

“Hey, deartháir. Walk with me a few minutes; let our ladies have a chance for some girl talk” Russ said, and motioned for Mark to join him. They wandered down the path a bit, talking quietly as they left. “Mark, I’ve got to ask this. This secondary marriage ritual-why haven’t you said anything about this before now?” Mark looked at him and smiled wryly. “I don’t think you’ll buy the ‘You didn’t ask’ line. Okay, Sherlock, I’m kinda of surprised you haven’t doped it out yet.” “Clue me in, then.” “Okay. One: All these years we go back that you mentioned last night, ár Sue and I never wanted money to come between us. We can’t afford 1.5 million dollar insurance policies like you two have for us if you kick it. Best we could offer is about $250 thousand.” “Fair enough. I’d accept that as a more than adequate ‘dowry’ from you.” Mark chuckled. “Two: the four of us lead rather public lives, especially you and ár Jill. This ritual culminates in a ring exchange and a mhí na meala or honeymoon. We’d have to fly to O’Hare, and take off in different directions from there. You can afford to fly ár Sue anywhere in the world and can be alone. Ár Jill and I are limited in what I can put up-which means there’s a chance some idiot with a camera would catch us. That’s a fast track to losing a job.” “Nice try, genius. Our holdings for you and ár Sue wipe out the job loss argument.” “But that goes back to my first argument, deartháir. “Nope. Ain’t buying the money card either; she’d pay for you and not blink. Try again?” “Three: Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me you’d be okay knowing ár Jill was wearing my ring?” Russ looked at him and stopped. “Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell that me you’d be okay knowing ár Sue was wearing my ring?” “Trick question. Ár Sue and I are chúpláilte de anamacha. Nothing short of one of us dying can ever destroy the love and bond we have, ever. I could offer ár Jill a ring tonight if I had it, and if she’d accept it. But you and her don’t have that because you’re ní de cumas. All you have is love, respect, and dedication. I don’t want to ruin your marriage, Russ.” That stopped him. “Really? Is that really it, Mark? Because if it is, you need to get over that and yourself. We’re céile grá eile to each other. You can’t ruin my marriage, because my marriage is your marriage, too. We share, and we work together. Ceann Croí- ‘One Heart’, remember? You want my opinion? Let’s work on this together, and take this to the next logical step. I know ár Jill wants it, I want it, and I’d bet a dinner out ár Sue wants it.” Russ paused and smiled at Mark, the smile of a man who knows a secret that nobody else does. “And deep down inside, deartháir, I know you want it as well. You and ár Jill have something she and I don’t…and I’m okay with that, too.”


“Joey, ever since we met and started dating, I’ve never lied to you. I’m not about to start now. We don’t have time to play games; Angie needs us to act like adults. So I’ll cut to the chase: I’m a telepath.” He sat there, stunned. “I’m a telepath too, Bree. Which means that’s what a tadhaill a aimsiú feels like. Which means we have a problem.”

They sat there for a moment, debating how to proceed. They both were physically tired, and they still had a number of things to do. Finally, he gently placed his hands on her temples, and she returned the gesture. They both ignored the tingling, the built in signal-or warning, depending on how you looked at it-while they each slid into the other’s mind. They verbalized lightly as they continued as they were not quite adept enough at mental communication not to. **This is so cool, Joey** she sent to him, and he sent back **Cool but scary, Bree. How long have you….** **Since just after we started dating, hon. You?** **About the same time. Funny, as much as we make out…** She grinned as she sent back **Perv. I know-you’d think we’d have caught on sooner. I wonder why we’re finding out about this now.** But their continued touch-combined with their tiredness to begin with-was starting to create ídiú dteagmháil, and they both knew and recognized this.

Finally, they released each other. “I dunno, Bree. As much as I love you-and I really do love you-this is a big step. A faoi bhanna’s forever, from what I’ve been told. I’m not so sure I’m ready for this.” She moved a wisp of hair from her eyes, and looked over another few pictures while she thought, trying to frame her next sentence carefully. “I’m not sure either, Joey. But now we know each other’s deepest secret-so let’s take the time to think about it for a moment.” He looked at her, and he asked her the question that deep down, he didn’t want to ask but knew he had to. “If we’re supposed to be acting like adults, what do you think an adult would do right now?” Bree looked over at him. “You sure you want to ask that question, Joey?” He shook his head. “No, not really. But I think we should look at it for a minute. I mean, this is game-changing stuff we’re dealing with here. It’s not like me asking you to go steady, or you telling me you love me for the first time.” Bree thought about it a moment, then got a brazen look on her face. “You really wanna know what I think an adult would do?” He nodded at her. “Okay, but remember, you asked.” She gathered herself together and said, “Personally, I think an adult would do this.”


Mark then entered the council chambers and sat down. “He’ll be a great mayor, if he handles things wisely” Mark thought. He’d finally decided if they offered him the position, he would accept it. Sue was for it, his friends and family were for it, Bob encouraged him to take it-as had Pat Sullivan-and he knew deep down this kind of an opportunity really would only come his way once locally. After some initial pleasantries, the questioning began in earnest. Some of the questions had been sent in via e-mail to the various members of the school board and the city council; he answered them honestly and to the best of his ability. Everything was going just fine, until questions were allowed to be asked from the press covering the meetings.  Jon Lanson had been waiting. He was still smarting from the beating he’d taken during the election, and now was hellbent to see Lynette Rock get the post. And as he was Qui Perdere, he felt like he had an insight, one that might just give Lynette an edge. “Mr. Roberts, it’s been hinted that there are people with certain mental or psionic abilities. Do you believe that such things exist?” Steve Starr inhaled deeply, as did Bree Oliver-who was there for her journalism class as well as taking some pictures for Lance-and a few others that had cumais in the room. Mark paused and waived his hand dismissively, then smiled. “What I think doesn’t matter. What matters to me is that we have students that need a quality education. I can make that happen, whether it’s at one high school or all the schools in the district. Therefore, my question back to you is this: Can you prove these abilities exist or not? Or, do you perhaps have these abilities yourself and are trying to hide them?” Steve grinned as he exhaled; this was a good deflective move. Jon Lanson sucked in his breath. As Qui Perdere, he was a telekinetic and had been able to avoid getting caught-and becoming what the Cosantóirí called a faoi bhanna-by not being very open. “Mr. Roberts, I’m not in the running for a position that will educate the children of Spaulding Valley. I’m a member of the press. What I believe is not germane to this discussion.” Jonni Ennis looked at him. “Then neither is your question, Jon. Ask a serious, legitimate question-or turn in your credentials for this meeting.”


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